


Red Light

by KittyGodspeed118



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Drug Use, Egobang - Freeform, M/M, Multi, egorubberbang, pimp arin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6456451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyGodspeed118/pseuds/KittyGodspeed118
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arin's a pimp, Ross and Dan are two of his most profitable working boys, and Brian and Barry are clients.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Particular Johns

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a documentary about prostitution on Netflix (It's called Whores' Glory and it is absolutely phenomenal but I digress) and it gave me this idea for a little fic.

"Quit hogging the mirror, Ross," Dan groaned, elbowing his way in front of the vanity in their dressing room.

His accent was still thick with New Jersey dripping on every word.

"Fuck off, I have a zit on my forehead," the Australian whined, elbowing back.

His accent was also thick, though the American influence was rooted in him. After all, he'd been living in the United States for at least two years.

With what little mirror space he had, Dan looked his face over. He kept the stubble because that's what most johns liked on him. Johns liked him in contrast to Ross because some liked men who looked older. Some women did too. Then he looked at his hair. He let it grow out. Johns liked to pull on it. His eyes drifted to the scar down his left eyebrow. He always wanted to cover it with makeup or something but Arin liked it. He said it was a conversation starter.

Arin knocked on the door, a grin on his face as always. He leaned in the doorway, flashing a wad of cash, which was a customary greeting. Ross is the first one to cling to his waist and beg for approval.

"Hey, beautiful," Arin purred, his calloused fingers cupping Ross' chin. "You gonna make me some money?"

"Yes, daddy," Ross giggled.

Dan was too busy taking advantage of the open mirror to even notice anyone was talking. He was trying to decide on whether to even put on any eyeliner or blush. He didn't need either, but they looked nice on him.

"Danny, hurry up. Johns are starting to trickle in."

"I know, just give me a second."

"Baby, look at me."

Dan sighed and turned around. Arin's charm was what got him into this mess in the first place. He strolled over, pressing his hands onto Dan's shoulders.

"Just a couple more tricks, okay?"

"You said that last time. I'm out. I'm done, Arin. I'm fucking tired."

"You don't mean that, baby boy," Arin scoffed, his hands moving to Dan's chest.

"Yeah, I do-"

"Remember why you decided to work for me."

His tone was harsher now and he moved on hand to Dan's long neck. His touch was still tender, but firm enough to almost be threatening.

"Tell me," he demanded, his lips to Dan's ear. "Tell me why you're still working, then."

"You promised me you'd talk to an agent about getting a record deal..."

"But first you have to make the money so I can buy you a studio, remember? I have connections. Just make the money and we'll talk."

"But-"

"Just a few more tricks for daddy, okay?"

Dan sighed and nodded reluctantly. He'd been living out of a car when he met Arin, struggling to make enough money to fund his music career. A degree in anthropology and floral biology weren't doing anything for him and music was his passion anyhow. That's what got him into this mess. He'd never seen as much money as Arin was flashing when they met. The thing was, he knew what he would be doing. Arin didn't lie about that. It seemed easy enough: have sex and get money for it. He didn't have a problem with that. Still, it'd been months since he agreed to work.

"Fine. Just a few more, but I'm leaving one of these days."

Arin smirked and kissed the top of Dan's head.

"Now, get out there and make me some money!"

Dan took one last look in the mirror and sighed, pulling his hair back into a messy bun. He wore an over-sized Rush t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. Arin never wanted any of his 'girls' wearing pants.

Ross was a completely different story. He was the 1% that Arin didn't have to lie to and manipulate in the slightest. All he had to do was tell him that he'd be showing off and he was more than willing to do it. Like Arin, he loved to dress up and show off, seeing how many people he could lure in and how much he could make them pay. His favorite trick was wearing dresses and makeup and trapping men, though most men didn't seem to mind once the big reveal happening once the clothes came off.

"Come on, Ross," Dan groaned, tugging on his arm.

Ross eagerly followed, straightening out his short plaid skirt and white crop top. Just for good measure, he wore tube socks that went up to his knees and hooker heels. If he was going to be fucking anyone, he'd have a damn good time doing it.

They stepped out into the loud hustle and bustle of the night life downstairs. It was technically a gentlemen's club that promised more 'benefits' to well-tipping patrons. As usual, Holly and Suzy were working the poles or bartending and Arin was counting his money.

Dan scanned the room, searching for the perfect john to go after. He'd been doing this for so long that all he saw was money when he went out. As he looked about, his eyes kept being drawn to an older-looking man in a white buttoned shirt and faded jeans. Brian. They kept making eye contact only briefly until the man gestured for him to come over.

"Hey, handsome," Dan murmured, sitting in the man's lap. "You lookin' for a good time?"

"How much would a couple hundred dollars get me?"

"How much do you have," he asked eagerly, practically digging into the man's pockets.

"Five, six...maybe seven hundred."

"I...shit, I've never had a john offer more than two hundred, so...everything you want, I guess? I mean, every new position costs you an extra 50 and blowjobs are-"

"Well, I guess we'd better get started then, huh?"

Dan grabbed Brian's arm and tugged on it. He was getting every cent he could from this man even if it meant spending hours with him. He led him up the stairs to an empty room, his heart pounding the whole way. Arin's greedy gaze watched with approval. He knew Dan was the one who made the most money. Ross went for the clients who gave him the most fun and pleasure.

Across the room, Ross looked for the most vulnerable person. He spotted the perfect victim sitting at the bar with a drink in his hand. He wore a faded blue plaid shirt and a nice pair of jeans. The man had a full beard and big doe-eyes. He looked like a lost puppy. Barry, hairy man with deer-in-headlights eyes, was clearly a first-time client. Ross practically felt his eyes light up as he made his way across the room.

"Wanna do something fun?" He asked, linking arms with Barry.

"O-oh...yeah, that would be nice."

"Come with me."

"I guess I should tell you that I've never done...this sort of thing before..."

"Paying a hooker?"

"Well, yeah...that, and...well, I've never done anything like this with men, so..."

Ross' grin only grew as Barry shoved his hands into his lap awkwardly. His scheme was simple: by the end of their time together, he'd turn this bashful, doe-eyed man into a bonafide freak. This was a man who clearly got his rocks off in missionary position, maybe doggy if he was feeling adventurous. This would be fun. He took Barry's hand and eagerly led him up the stairs the way Dan had gone. Arin almost felt bad for the man Ross was with because he had no idea what Ross was going to turn him into.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dan pushed Brian onto his back on the newly made bed. His kisses were aggressive and hungry as he climbed on top of him. He only stopped when he felt Brian's thin lips curl into a smirk.

"What," Dan demanded.

"It's not that easy," Brian scoffed, running his fingers through Dan's wild hair before yanking roughly on it. "All this cash isn't just for you to get fucked, you know."

"Y-yeah? Well, what do you want me to...do first?"

"Strip. Slow."

Dan's face flushed and he nodded. He didn't have much on to begin with, but made the most of it. He could see Brian massaging the bulge in his jeans, thin bottom lip pinned under an exasperated row of white teeth. Shirt first, then a very slow shimmying of the shorts down Dan's thin thighs. Brian was clearly pleased.

"Come here."

Brian smirked, standing up and pressing Dan against the wall. The height difference was adorable. Even being a few good heads shorter than Dan, he was far more dominant...not that Dan had a problem with that. In fact, it turned him on to be roughed up a bit. Brian wrapped one hand around Dan's shaft and used the other to grip his neck. He'd done it before, Dan concluded. He only knew that because Brian tightened his grip by squeezing the sides of his throat, not the windpipe.

Ross was in a completely different situation, however. He dove onto the comfy bed in the room Arin'd paid for, pulling Barry on top of him. His eyes were ablaze with anticipation as he felt the dual sensation of stubble against his smooth cheeks and a straining erection even against the fabric of their clothing. This only made his smile grow. Knowing that his client could be so easily aroused would make the teasing incredibly gratifying.

"Let's play a game," Ross giggled, taking Barry's hands in his own.

"A-a game...? I didn't think hookers liked games..."

"This one's special. If you don't cum after our time is up, you don't have to pay me a dime."

"Well, I guess I could do that."

Ross licked his thin lips and grinned almost sadistically. He unbuttoned the nice jeans and pulled out the fully erect cock buried under fabric. The size made Ross almost weak in the knees as he wrapped his slender fingers around it. He wanted it inside him immediately, but knew he had to drag out the suspense. With that in mind, he pressed his thumb against the throbbing head of the cock. Barry winced, his eyes shut tightly. Ross began to slowly stroke it, his sadistic blue eyes locked with the other's flustered green ones every time they opened. He pressed his tongue against the tip before wrapping his thin lips around it slowly. Barry shuddered and instinctively pressed his hands to Ross' head. His grip was gentle, almost scared as if he didn't want to hurt or push the other any further for fear of hurting him.

"Make me choke," Ross breathed, drooling.

"I-I...what?"

"Pull my hair...be rough with me, will you? I'm bored already," he whined.

"You...want me to hurt you?"

Barry knew that was a thing some people liked, but he'd never imagine himself doing to someone else. Surprisingly, he wasn't completely opposed to it. He grabbed hold of Ross' mousy brown hair, eliciting a shocked moan from him.

"I-I'm sorry! Was that too rough," Barry asked cautiously.

Ross grinned and licked his lips again.

"More."

He was a complete glutton for punishment. It was almost entertaining to see the internal conflict work within Barry.

Brian had let go of Dan, taking absolute pleasure in watching him drop to his weak, bony knees. Dan was in too much of a heat to care about how pathetic he looked, skeleton-like fingers wrapped around his shaft as he jerked feverishly. Brian watched with satisfaction, Dan's moaning being just as orgasm-inducing as his voice when he talked. His face flushed as Brian pressed his middle finger inside of him. He shuddered and tried to adjust to the slow, attentive movement of the finger. He continued jacking himself off in a lustful daze, his backside bucking against the heavenly feeling of being penetrated. With a sadistic grin, Brian pushed his finger as far as it would go and curled it until he felt it press against what he assumed to be Dan's G-spot. Dan's thin body went rigid as he moaned in ecstasy. He immediately came on the floor beneath him, his breathing labored and his body trembling.

Barry finally couldn't handle any more and pulled Ross up into his lap. He wrapped his legs around Barry's waist and easily slid the erect cock inside him. Barry shuddered as Ross began moving against him slowly. His labored breaths met Ross' excited moans with harmonic ease. Barry's beard almost tickled as it brushed his skin as he kissed it tenderly. His thrusts grew more rough and the mesh of tender kisses and relentlessness in his motions made Ross' body melt into a mass of nerves.

Brian stood up, moving to collect his boxers from wherever he'd thrown them during his encounter with Dan.

"Are you...done already," Dan asked, his body still shaking as he tried to stand.

"How much do I owe you?"

"I-I...what?"

"The money. You're a prostitute, right?"

Dan stood up and shrugged. He usually kept track of what was going on and how much he needed to be paid. Usually.

Ross, after covering Barry's chest in cum at the moment of climax, wiped himself off and grinned.

"That'll be $277," he yawned. "It'll be an extra $30 if you want me to clean your cock off."

Barry blushed and nodded, searching for his wallet in his pants pocket. Ross took the money without further question, leaving Barry to sit in the room, still so hazy and confused about how he felt. He hadn't even had time to remember that Ross took another 30 dollars anyway. The thing was, Barry didn't even mind.

Brian held out a wad of cash and waited for Dan to straighten out a bit. There was at least two thousand dollars in the stack. No matter what he thought, it was definitely more than the five or six hundred he originally thought he'd be getting. 

"That should be enough, right," Brian asked, flicking through the bills.

"Oh my god, yeah...this should be more than enough! Thank you so much," Dan gasped, throwing his arms around the man.

"I'll be back one of these days, so save some energy for me. Get something nice for yourself."

"If we're both lucky, you'll never see me again!"


	2. An Offer You Can't Refuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arin thinks back to how he met Dan and Ross.

No one really knows why Arin chose to do that kind of work. Maybe it was money. Maybe it was power. Maybe both. No one really knows how the pimp hierarchy works. Still, he'd been doing it for a good year and he was pretty damn good at it. His calm voice and infectious laugh made his job several times easier. In fact, he was almost too good. He reserved violence for what he considered moments which required a bit of extra reinforcement.

It was March 14th and the air was still chilly out. In a beat-up old blue Honda sat a wild-haired 24 year old man. Danny, this man, leaned forward in the driver's seat, staring at the white powder he'd lined up on the dashboard. Those days, he snorted cocaine just to remind himself that he felt something. Music was all he cared about and because of that, he was living out of a car that he could barely afford gas for. He had a notebook full of lyrics and scrawls of chords, but nothing healthy for food, only having enough money to buy low-grade cocaine and decent weed, and a bass guitar. It was a less than desirable existence to be sure, but the cocaine made it feel less like an immediate reality. He'd occasionally apply for jobs and couch surf with friends, but living in the car allowed him to be one with his music. The 14th was his birthday and goddammit, he was going to celebrate by snorting enough coke to knock him out. 

Arin strolled through the city, the type of whore he was looking for etched in his mind. He needed variety for his business. He wanted someone who looked different from Ross in almost every aspect. He needed someone who wasn't sadistic or using his job in order to see how much money he could suck out of a wallet. A tortured soul was something different. Someone damaged by the world would be nice. Eyes deep, but compassionate. He'd know him when he saw him for sure.  
With a twinge of reluctance, Dan leaned down and snorted the line of cocaine that he'd so carefully cut himself. He only sat up when he heard a tapping on his window.

"Hey, man, you got a light," Arin asked, leaning down from the curb to the car window.

"What?"

Arin smirked and gestured for him to roll down the window.

"I said, have you got a light? Mine isn't working."

Dan dug around in the glove compartment while Arin let himself in, sitting on the passenger's side.

"My, that's a nasty little habit you got there, huh?"

"What do you me-"

Arin held out a tissue. Apparently Dan's nose had been bleeding. Again. He groaned and took the tissue, dabbing at the blood. He tossed it aside, continuing to rummage through the cluttered glove compartment.

"Shit...I think I lost mine...sorry, man-"

"It's fine. I don't even smoke," Arin snorted. "I needed an excuse to get in the car. I'm Arin. Nice to meet ya."

Dan reluctantly shook the man's hand and his eyes were drawn to the stack of money sticking out of Arin's pants pocket. He could probably seduce enough money out of him to pay for his next fix...or even a decent meal. Arin noticed that longing gaze and knew exactly what he needed to do next.

"Are you hungry," he asked, his smile as genuine as it could be.

"Starving..."

"Come on. I'll buy you a burger."

Dan nodded excitedly. He'd thrown manners to the wind since he was so hungry and alone for so long. He got out of his car, digging his hands into the pockets of his moss green jacket. Arin stood up and stretched his legs, tucking his own large hands into the pockets of his red leather jacket.

"That where you live," Arin asked as they walked, pointing to the car.

"Yep."

"Seems...cozy."

They continued walking in silence until Dan finally found something to say. He stopped walking and sucked in a short breath.

"Look, man, I'm fine. I promise. I don't need you to feel sorry for me or...I dunno. I'm fine."

Arin snorted and knelt down, lifting Dan's shirt. His stomach was growling loudly despite how hard he tried to seem as if he weren't hungry. He rolled his eyes and tugged his own shirt down. They walked to a small diner, sitting in the booth farthest from the counter.

"Tell me about yourself, tall, lanky, and unfortunate," Arin mused.

"Um...today's my birthday," Dan said in a pathetic voice. "I like blue..."

"No, I mean, what are you into? I saw a guitar in that car of yours so I'm gonna guess that you're a starving artist trying to make it in the cutthroat world of music. Am I close?"

"That's pretty much it, yeah...I guess it's kind of my own fault. I haven't sent any of my shit to a huge record company because I don't need a huge-ass company sucking the blood from my brain. You know what I mean?"

"Oh, totally."

"So it's like, how does a nobody from New Jersey make money off of music they refuse to sell out for?"

Arin nodded as if he understood, though he was far more intrigued by what this man looked like. He had those deep eyes that told the story of a broken optimist. His hair was pulled back with stray strands lazily tucked behind one ear. His fingers were long and bony the way Arin expected someone so tall to possess. In short, he was perfect.

"Chin up," Arin said cheerfully. "I think I might be able to help you out a little bit."

"Really?"

"I mean, you'd have to help me a bit in return, of course, but we can work that out later. Long story short, I have a lot of connections to a lot of good people and I like you, so I'm offering to do you a favor."

"Holy shit, that's really nice of you, but I dunno...this is a lot to ask when we just met...are you sure?"

"Well, what kind of man would I be if I didn't help a brother out...especially on his birthday?"

Dan kept his eyes down as the waitress set down cold glasses of water. What the hell was he supposed to say to this stranger who was simultaneously seducing and befriending him? He'd usually hated getting handouts from people, but he was desperate. After all, this was a nice, handsome man who voluntarily bought him dinner. The selfish artist in him urged himself to go as far as he possibly could to get what he wanted. Even still, the selfless lover in him was disgusted with the idea of most likely sleeping with someone for the sake of his own personal gain.

"Believe me; I want to do this for you," Arin persisted, leaning across the table and lifting Dan's chin. "You have what I need, so we'll be even, alright?"

"...Alright."

Dan ordered a BLT, practically drooling as he thought about eating something that wasn't rotting his body for once. Arin ordered a burger that could barely fit in his hands because he loved to eat as if he'd die in a moment.

"You have crazy long fingers," Arin noted as Dan reached for his drink. 

"Thank...you?"

"Just thinking out loud, is all." 

Their food came and Arin couldn't help but stare at Dan. He was absolutely mesmerizing. He looked like the least disgusting cocaine addict he'd ever met. He looked wired, but it was a tired, desperate wired that made you want to take him home and do everything to take care of him. He had the habitual runny nose and dilated eyes, but there was something beautiful about his self-destruction. After they'd both finished eating, Arin thought very hard about how to approach the subject. That is, he was concerned until Dan locked his fingers with his.

"My...hands are cold...sorry," he said, his body trembling against Arin's.

"When's the last time you slept in an actual bed?"

"Shit, I dunno..."

"Come back to my place and we can get you cleaned up with some new clothes, okay? Don't worry about it. Come on."

With the life he was living, stranger danger meant absolutely nothing to Dan. Besides; Arin seemed incredibly charismatic. 

"You're not a serial killer, are you," he asked, sniffling for the hundreth time. 

"No, and if you need more incentive, I can tell you've been using cheap nose candy. I've got good stuff. You'd have to hate yourself to not take what I'm trying to give you."

That was all Danny needed to hear. Before he could even blink, he was in a fancy bedroom in a place he didn't even remember walking to. Arin was holding his hair back as he snorted another line of cocaine off the bedside table. All he had to do was wait until Dan was thoroughly fucked up before he spoke. Dan only sat up once his nose began to bleed again. Content, Arin rose from the bed and dug through a closet of clothes. 

"Get into something more comfortable and relax," he directed. "Don't worry about anything from now on."

"What's the catch?"

"The catch?" Arin wanted to sound as surprised as he could. 

"Do I have to join a gang or something? Most people don't just hand out free coke and buy meals for strangers," Dan went on, his arms trembling from another satisfying high as he pulled off the t-shirt he wore. 

"Nah, man. Look, we don't need to talk about that right now. Or talk at all."

And it was so easy to weasel his way into the g-string of Dan's heart with his words and a gentle hand. The one sensation that stuck with Arin no matter how hard he tried to shut it out was the way Dan's body would tremble after a coke binge. Things were so simple before Arin finally decided business had to progress. He was open, which some could appreciate.

"How do you make all that money," Dan asked one morning after three weeks of what felt like pure luxury. "Do you run a drug ring or something?"

"I need you to do me that favor now," Arin said abruptly, buttoning his pastel pink shirt. 

"O...kay?"

"Do you know how much a good whore makes in a day?"

"A...?"

"You know: prostitute, harlot, working gal, whatever floats your boat."

"Oh god," Dan groaned, jolting up from the sheets and stringing his fingers through his hair. 

Okay, Arin thought. Play this right. What does a starving artist want?

"You want that record deal, right?"

Dan froze, hands no longer trembling in that moment. He didn't even have to speak. Arin knew he'd hit the right chord. 

"Music is an expensive business to be in and I'd love to be able to pay for everything. All you have to do is have sex."

"Fine. But, as soon as I make the money you need, I'm fucking out, okay?" 

"I promise the moment you give me what I need, you're free to go."

Arin didn't cross his fingers. He didn't need to in order to know he was lying. All he had to do was kiss Dan's forehead and the deal was set. He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd never had to do so much lying and cheating before. He hated when his product was as smart as he was only partially as it kept him occupied and on his toes.   
Dan was easy to read and lie to. He was jaded, but innocent even still. 

Arin stood out on the balcony of the hotel room, leaning on the railing. Dan was still in bed and Arin had time to just sit and relax. Things seemed so easy after one particular whore showed up in his life. Compared to him, people like Dan were practically transparent. 

He wasn't even looking to pick anyone up when he met Ross. He'd been in the business for almost a year by that point and he was making a substantial amount of money with the most popular girls he had already: Suzy and Holly. He treated himself to a drink at the local bar in seedy Brooklyn. The alcohol was mediocre, but he took a liking to people-watching. His eye was immediately caught by a brown-haired, baby-faced twink of a man in a blue sundress and black Converse. He slid into the stool next to Arin and batted his eyelashes. 

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Arin replied, still trying to get a read on this guy.

“You should buy me a drink,” Ross finally said, licking his lips. 

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I’m Ross. I’m not good at small talk. Wanna fuck?”

Of course Arin did. He was never opposed to the idea. It was exciting to know almost nothing about this devious person. 

As soon as Ross could see a glimmer of interest in Arin’s eyes, he prepared to pounce. He’d mix however many drugs into a drink as it took to give him time to steal the money he needed...or, rather, wanted. Or give Arin sex so good that he’ll be delirious enough to hand the money over willingly. See, he’d made a habit of fucking men and taking their money when he got bored. It was something to do. 

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom and when I get back, we can head out, alright?”

“Sounds great,” Ross answered, his Australian accent thick. 

As soon as Arin left, Ross dug around in his cat-head purse for a syringe. He’d managed to get his hands on crazy sex drugs from some scientist he’d fucked in a van a few months ago. It made the senses more sensitive and seemed to work like marijuana on the brain. He ran his fingers along the syringe and waited until Arin returned. They stepped out into the night, Ross clutching his syringe and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. 

“So, Ross, you make a habit of just asking guys to buy you a drink at bars?”

“What else am I gonna do all night? I get bored,” Ross scoffed as if it was obvious. 

Arin stopped walking, his eyes peering down at Ross’ hand briefly before he pressed the shorter Australian against the wall of the building they’d walked past. 

“Whatever you got in that purse isn’t gonna get you anywhere. I’ve been doing this for too long for you to try and get the upper hand.”

“Don’t be rude! I’ll cum if you keep manhandling me like that, you know.”

Arin wanted to be angry. It made sense to be angry. This guy was probably going to pump him full of drugs and rob him later. Still, Ross had this sort of trickster vibe that could only be described as fascinating. Arin loosened his grip and cupped Ross’ chin with one hand.

“Wanna get paid to fuck men as much as your little fucking weird heart desires?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“You can still come home with me so we can talk business, but no drugging me. Got it?”

“We’ll see.”

"No, the correct words I'm looking for are 'yes, daddy'."

Ross bit his lip and grinned eagerly.

"Yes, daddy~"


	3. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's rebellion leads to him into a meeting with THE boss.

Arin was not an angry man per say. Not all the time, anyway. Not...too often. Few things required him to assert himself as a dominant person...until Dan and Ross started making money for him.

Ross was easy to deal with in this one instance: if he needed to be punished, simply ignoring him would do. Depriving him of attention did enough to make him apologize for whatever bullshit stunts he pulled.

Dan, on the other hand, was a different story. Their fights were particularly explosive because Arin was harder on him than any other whore he employed.

"I can't fucking do this anymore," Dan groaned, throwing the hotel room door open almost hard enough to break it from its hinges. 

"Come on, babe, you don't mean that," Arin soothed, his voice calm and deep as he entered the room. 

"Yes, I fucking do," Dan shouted, kneeling down and hoisting a small suitcase onto the bed between them. "I can't take it anymore and you can't make me stay."

"What makes this day any different from any other?"

"This guy was old as fuck and wet the bed before I'd even touched him. I'm worth more than that and you fucking know it. I'm out."

"And where do you plan on going?"

Dan stopped cold. He felt like a child who threatened to run away from home with a backpack full of comics and half a cheese sandwich. 

"Do you think you're worth something on those streets," Arin went on, his voice losing its benevolence within seconds. "A coked-up whore who can't make it in the music industry means absolutely nothing to the rest of the world. Hell, are you planning on going back to living in the beat-up car of yours?"

"I'll...call someone."

"Like who? The parents you haven't checked in with since you moved out at 18? Huh? The ex-girlfriend who won't return your calls? Your shitty band mates? Your successful sister who has two kids and a perfect life?"

"Fuck you, Arin."

"I'm only like this because you're being ungrateful," he scoffed, opening his arms. "Who feeds you and keeps you going? Who sits by your bed when you're sick? Who keeps your nose full of that powder you're so fond of? Hm?"

"You do," Dan muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear that?"

"You do," he repeated, eyes still cast down at his feet. 

"So why run away from the one person who's never let you down," Arin asked, his tone almost offended at the notion. "You just need enough money to support your music career, right? And we're almost there, so relax and keep at it."

And it was like Satan's horns had disappeared as Arin reached across the bed and lifted Dan's chin. His eye contact was still pleased at the surface, but a fury boiled underneath.

"I'm only doing this because I love you so much," he went on. "What more do I need to do to make you trust me?"

"I do trust you...I'm just...I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Good boy. Now, get dressed and go make me some money. I'll take you out tonight. Sound good?"

Dan nodded, suddenly feeling safe again for a short moment. It was as if nothing ever happened. He breathed a deep, cleansing breath before pulling on his signature black Rush t-shirt. He walked out of the room, almost immediately bumping into someone.

"Oh, shit, I am incredibly sorry about tha-"

"Oh fuck," Dan murmured once his eyes met a pair of all-too-familiar blue ones. 

He shot up from the floor and turned his back to the man, knowing his face must be a mess.

"What, uh, what're you doing here," he murmured, trying to dust any cocaine residue from his nose and any tears left on his cheeks.

"I wanted to see you...is this a bad time," Brian replied, caught in the awkward limbo of wanting to touch Dan's shoulder and not wanting to step a boundary. 

"No! I...I mean, it's just really shitty timing because you weren't supposed to see me again, okay?"

"I'm not sure I understand? Should I leave or...?"

"No, no, stay...it's just...my life's feeling like a really, really fuckin' bad puppet show. Does that make sense?"

Brian furrowed his brows and shook his head. Dan let out a long, withdrawn sigh. He finally turned around and took hold of Brian's arm.

"I need to make like, a fuckton of money, man," he confessed, running his free hand through his hair. 

"How much do you need?"

Brian's hand was already reaching into his back pocket for his wallet as if he didn't even need to know the amount of money. Even after meeting for the second time, he'd become invested. As terrifying as that was, he couldn't help but want to see Dan succeed. 

"We should get a room," Dan finally said, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that Arin might be listening to them. 

With a bit of knocking and checking around, they finally found a room that was empty on the top floor. Dan shut the door behind them and his hands flew straight to his shirt almost immediately.

"Are you in some sort of trouble or-" Brian began, cut off by Dan throwing his shirt aside and pushing him onto the single king bed near the window. 

"You need to stop coming here," Dan interjected, unbuttoning Brian's shirt with haste. "If you don't want to fuck me, I can't take your money. Arin says emotional connections aren't good for business."

"I suppose that makes sense, but-"

"You're not gonna, like, propose to me or whatever, right?" 

"Not this early, no," Brian scoffed, his voice shaky as Dan planted soft yet firm kisses on his collar bones. "Seriously though, is everything alright? You seemed upset and-"

"You're thinking a lot and I need you to do like, not that," Dan again interrupted, long fingers mechanically unbuckling the simple leather belt around Brian's waist. "Also, don't talk. I'm just here to make money."

"For your music. I know-"

"I can't afford to like, care about you or whatever. I'm already on thin ice and if Arin finds out I have a john who wants more than sex from me, I'll be in serious shit, understand?"

"Even if I keep paying?"

"It'll be obvious that you're into me if you keep blowing a fuckton of money on me. Just...pay me for a handjob and don't come back. It's better for both of us that way."

"I'm not trying to marry you or whatever you think I'm doing," Brian protested, voice faltering as Dan hurriedly began working on him. "I don't even know your name-"

"When you name something, you get attached to it. No names."

"Can't a guy just like being around someone? And I thought you wanted me to leave-"

"If it doesn't smell like cum in this room, I'm not getting my fix tonight and I need that shit."

"Fix...?"

Dan rolled his eyes with an irritated sigh, yanking his hair into a near perfect ponytail as he lowered himself onto his knees. 

"Coke now stop talking. I'm after your money so stop trying to connect with me!"

Brian only settled back down when he felt the familiar and comforting sensation of Dan's thin lips around his shaft. He let out a reluctant grunt, his mind in one place and his body in another. The moment was immediately shattered by the hotel room door bursting open.

"Danny, come here," Arin said, his tone far more firm than usual.

Dan reluctantly rose and inquired silently by knitting his brows.

"Boss wants to see you."

"Can it wait?"

"Keeping him waiting isn't...you should go. I'll have Suzy finish-"

Brian'd already gotten up and zipped his pants. He held out several hundred dollar bills and waited silently. Dan contemplated taking it for a moment before silently accepting it and tucking the bills carefully into the side of his waistband. Brian brushed past the two men in the doorway and made his way out. 

Dan had only been working for Arin for about three months by this point and he was already seeing the 'power that be' as Arin called him. He couldn't help but be nervous as he walked the seemingly endless trail from his hotel room (to collect pants and his leather jacket) to the car out front that picked him up. 

"I have to blindfold you," Arin muttered.

"Man, whatever," Dan retorted.

He was conflicted. He met a nice man who willingly blew hundreds of dollars on him...for some reason. He tried to drive this guy away to protect himself from Arin...or himself...or whoever the fuck Big Boss was. 

Within what felt like five minutes, the car stopped again and Arin opened the door, surprisingly gentle as he guided Dan out. 

"Now, when you meet him, try not to say anything unless he asks you to," Arin instructed, slowing his pace to keep up with Dan. "Don't ask questions. Don't laugh at a joke unless he laughs. If he offers you a cigarette, you take it. He sees everything, so don't lie. Good luck."

With that, Dan heard doors creak and he was shoved inside. His blindfold was only removed once he'd landed on his knees and his arms were bound behind his back with rope. Arin stood near the door, for once displaying fear plain as day.

Big Boss was a sight to behold. The first thing Dan's eyes were drawn to was the red hair. Most of it was black, but at the top, it was red. Past the hair, all he could see was the definition of arousing. His brown eyes, unlike Dan's, lacked warmth of any kind. They were cold and constantly scanning for weaknesses. The man's face was lined almost perfectly with stubble. He was perfect. 

"So this is Danny," he began, his voice sultry and low. 

"Yes, sir," Arin answered, his voice small in comparison.

"Shut up, Hanson."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

It was almost rewarding to see someone put Arin in his place. Dan's body relaxed as he further examined the man behind a large desk. 

"Where are those worthless pets of mine," he grumbled, yanking at two large chains that rested next to him on the desk. 

There was a loud, rhythmic clinking sound as two men crawled on their hands and knees to the man's feet. Dan immediately recognized them both. The hairier one with larger calf muscles was Vernon. Dan knew those black-rimmed glasses too well. The practically hairless one with the baby face and Windex blue eyes was Ross. Dan's eyes pinpointed each bruise and scratch on their skin with alarming attention. He hadn't even heard the intimidating man with dyed red hair speak to him.

"He's as spacey as you said he was," he chuckled.

"He's not normally so-" Arin began quietly.

"Shut up, Hanson."

"Sorry, sir."

Ross was yanked upward by his collar, a weak moan crawling from his throat as the man grinned.

"He really does have such a pretty mouth, doesn't he," the man grunted, pinching Ross' cheeks. 

Dan nodded, incredibly confused. Again, the other grinned, his mouth full of white almost vampire-like teeth.

"I'm such a dick. Where are my manners? I'm Mark. You know nothing about me, but I know all about you."

Dan remained silent, partially not knowing what to say and partially being too afraid to speak. Mark laughed a very genuine, yet terrifying low laugh. It laughed abruptly and the room was silent once more.

"See, Danny, I run such a tight ship around here. When people think of leaving, it breaks my heart."

Dan's spine stiffened and he stared down at the floor. Mark stood, his height less intimidating as he was easily shorter than Dan by a few feet. Even still, chains in one hand and bandage-wrapped knuckles on the other, it was easy to see why Arin was terrified. 

"You want to make music for a living, don't you?"

"Y-yes...sir."

"And you're making good money, aren't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"I'll be really honest with you, sweetheart," Mark began, voice almost at a growl as he yanked on Dan's hair and pulled him close. "I like you. You have this glow in your eyes and the prettiest face I've ever seen."

"Thank you-"

"But when you mess with a perfect business for selfish reasons," Mark went on, tightening his grip on Dan's hair. "I can't help but see you as a threat. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I-I guess..."

"Let me put it to you like this: you see your friends over there?"

He pointed to Ross and Vernon. Dan was almost pained looking at them with all their bruises and scratches. 

"When whores try to run away, they get sent to me. I have to correct their behavior. Understand?"

"Y-yes..."

"Yes?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. It was a pleasure to meet you, Danny. I hope you'll take our little talk to heart. I'm a pretty calm guy, but the trigger finger's a tad itchy."

Dan only felt himself exhale once Mark had let go of his hair and settled back into his chair. Ross held up a glass of something, probably alcohol, with rigid, attentive arms. Despite his shaking body, he seemed satisfied and even delighted to be used the way he was. Mark took the glass, downing the beverage inside and smiled.

"What a good boy," he chuckled, scratching under Ross' chin. 

"Thank you, sir!" Ross replied with excitement. 

Jesus fucking Christ, Dan thought. What have I gotten myself into?


	4. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross is favored by Big Boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pewds, Ken, Intern Jack, and Jacksepticeye are in this one! I'm a happy cat! It's a shorter, sort of self-indulgent chapter, but I hope you enjoy!

It was time for Ross to go. He'd been working for Arin for four months, which was an eternity for someone like him. You take what you want until you're bored. He wasn't particularly bored yet, but he never stayed anywhere long enough to lose a thrill.

"That'll be $200 for the blowjob and $85 for the cleaning up," he purred with a yawn.

"O-oh, okay," Barry replied, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

"Hey, I'm proud of you; you lasted three whole minutes longer than last time. Keep practicing, okay?"

"Thanks again for helping me...it must be weird to help someone with this kind of thing..."

"It's something to do," Ross murmured, already digging through Barry's wallet for the money.

He handed the wallet back to its owner and smiled, kissing Barry's cheek. He was fond of him even as shy as he could be at times. He was cuddly and particularly good for cuddling. He let Ross mess with him a lot.

"Have a good night, big boy."

Barry blushed and nodded before shuffling out of the room. Ross stretched out and prepared to leave. It just felt like time to move on. He didn't bother to pack anything, so he tucked the money he'd gotten from Barry into the waistband of his boxers and headed out onto the street. He only made it a short way before a black Rolls Royce pulled up beside him. The window rolled down and Ross reluctantly stopped.

"Get in," the blond man driving the car demanded, his accent heavy Swedish.

"And who's gonna make me," Ross scoffed, tugging down his skirt a bit.

From the back seat rose a man at least a head or two taller than him stood up and cracked his knuckles. Ross swallowed the intimidation swelling within him and chuckled nervously.

"H-hey, Ken," he muttered, his throat going dry. "I take it you're gonna make me?"

"Look, make this easy for me," Ken grumbled, his southern twang almost as apparent as Felix's, who sat in the driver's seat. "I like you and I don't wanna have to get mean on you."

Ross rolled his eyes and slid into the backseat with Ken. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, pouting like a child.

"Where were you headed off to," Ken persisted, wrapping a black blindfold around Ross' head. "Boss is gonna wanna know."

"Nowhere."

"Alright. You can keep this up as long as you like. I'm not the one you gotta answer to."

"Is all this really fucking necessary," Ross groaned as Ken tied his hands behind his back.

"This is just a normal Saturday night for you whores, ain't it?"

"I have a funny feeling I'm not getting paid for this."

The car pulled up to what seemed to be an eerie warehouse. It was probably several stories tall from the looks of it. Ken opened the car door and guided Ross out, his strong hands attempting to be as gentle as possible. Inside they went. Ross hated the feeling of helplessness that came with being blindfolded and his hands being bound. He listened to the sounds around him: the clicking of Ken's steel-toed boots, the dripping of water from somewhere, some muffled yelling, and an eerie laugh. He was pushed onto his knees. There was a prolonged silence before the creaking of two doors shattered it. The soft click clack click clack of shoes was the sound that greeted Ross as his blindfold was removed.

"Felix, get Jack for me," a deep voice ordered.

"Which one, sir," Felix replied, ready to serve.

"The, uh...the Irish one," the other replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Sir, they're both incredibly Irish."

The man paused in deep thought and rolled his eyes. He ran one hand through his fiery red hair and groaned.

"The intern, not the one with green hair. Tell him I need him to fill a bucket with ice water."

"Extra ice, sir?"

"Extra ice."

Ross finally examined the man who leaned back on his desk. He wore a neatly tailored suit with a red tie and black shirt. His face was perfect. There weren't many other words to use other than that. Ross watched him wipe blood from his cheek as he knelt down to his level.

"I've heard so much about you, Ross," he said, his voice low and non-threatening.

"I'm kind of the best thing ever, so," Ross replied with a simple shrug.

"You're incredibly beneficial to my business. Johns like you a lot. Hell, I'm fascinated by the idea of you."

"That's flattering, I guess-"

"But when you plan to take off with my money," Mark continued, snatching the wad of cash tucked into Ross' waistband. "I have to get mean, which I don't like to do."

"What; are you gonna break my nose and rough me up a bit?" Ross scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"No broken bones just yet," Mark laughed, gesturing for whoever was at the door to come in. "I'm going to give you a warning and then we'll handle things from there."

Intern Jack, who Ross immediately recognized, entered with a large metal tub of ice water. Ross heard every clinking of the ice in the tube. Mark simply nodded to Ken, who grabbed hold of Ross' hair.

"See, I hate being mean when it's so easily avoidable," Mark mused with a chuckle as Ken pressed Ross' head below the freezing water.

With another nod from Mark, Ken pulled Ross' head up. The Australian spat water out and gasped for air, his body trembling as he struggled to catch his breath.

"This is all just foreplay for you, isn't it," Mark continued with a chuckle.

"Why not just kill me? That's what you mafia type assholes do, right?" Ross muttered, his words quiet as he struggled to breathe.

"You should know that the fun is in the torture, my darling. Besides; I don't want to kill you. I don't even want to make you suffer enough to make you less profitable. Like I said; johns like you. You make me money."

And with that, he nodded and Ken pressed Ross' head down again. Mark snapped and Felix helped him out of his suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves on his crisp black shirt. With another quick gesture, Ross was lifted to his feet.

"So, a little bit of torture every day is supposed to keep me from ditching this place," he demanded between broken breaths.

"No more torture for now," Mark retorted, his voice not nearly as harsh as leaned back on his desk. "I believe scare tactics work for some, not all. A little water in your lungs just acts as a warning."

Ross watched as Mark snapped his fingers. A baby blue collar was placed around Ross' neck and before he could ask anything more, the chain attached to it was yanked.

"Like I said, sweetheart, I like you," Mark said, wrapping the long chain around one hand. "So, I wouldn't want you to go through any more pain than you need to."

"I don't think I understand-"

"I've been awful bored the past few weeks since we had to bury my favorite whore."

"Mark, please stop tellin' people I died," an agitated and very Irish voice groaned. "I sprained my ankle. That's literally it."

"You remember Sean, don't you," Mark went on.

"An' stop tellin' everyone my real name," the voice chimed in again.

"So, there was a little accident and I've been needing a pet to take his place. It requires a lot of stamina, but from what I've heard, I'm sure you're the perfect candidate."

"And if I don't agree," Ross asked.

Mark laughed, giving a scoff of absolute disbelief.

"You will."

"What makes you so sure?"

"When's the last time you've had sex so violent that it's almost broken your bones?"

Ross hated giving in more than anything else. Still, he could tell just by the way everyone bent to his will, he could tell that Mark was the most worthy opponent he'd ever encountered.

"We're going upstairs," Mark declared, tugging on the chain. "Don't bother us."

They ascended the rusty staircase and faced what looked like a converted flat. Mark shut the glass doors behind them and smirked as Ross looked around.

"Care for a drink?"

"I'm Irish and Australian."

There was a pause and Ross sighed.

"I'll have the strongest thing you have."

"What's the magic word?"

"Bite me."

Mark yanked on the chain until their faces were nearly a hair apart. Mark licked his lips before sinking his teeth into Ross' collarbone. Ross felt his knees weaken as he moaned.

"The magic word," Mark repeated through clenched teeth.

"P-please, big daddy..."

"What a good boy. I knew you'd learn soon enough."

Ross let out a soft, content sigh as Mark released him and perused the alcohol bottles on the shelves across the room. He poured two glasses of whiskey. He held out one glass and laughed when Ross hesitated.

"Relax. Unlike some people, I don't have to drug a person to get what I want from them."

Ross took the glass in his mouth and knocked it back. He eyed the bottle on the counter as Mark sat back on the large white couch. Ross edged toward it and with terrifying speed, Mark was in front of him, one hand poised on his throat.

"If you want another drink, you'll have to ask like a good boy."

His grip was incredible and Ross found himself almost drooling. He was such a glutton for punishment and Mark's fingers clenched around his neck was almost orgasmic in its own right. On top of that, his hands were still tied behind his back.

"Be a good boy and I'll take care of you," Mark whispered, one hand around Ross' neck and the other snaking its way into his underwear. "Even if that means being a monster. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, big daddy."

"You and I are going to get along just fine."


	5. Named

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan is getting antsy and everyone is on edgy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's about to get mad serious, my pals

Johns came and went. It felt like weeks since Dan had seen Brian. All he found were a few notes that Brian left along with wads of money.

"Remember to stay hydrated, love B~" 

"Eat more protein! Love, B~"

Dan racked his brain trying to think of what this guy's name was. He regretted never asking him since the mystery was only fun if Brian was left questioning. 

Dan pulled his hair back into a ponytail and walked towards the lobby of the hotel. He dug his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on there, Def Leppard," Arin interjected, leaning over the front counter near the door. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"I'm just going out to get something to eat. Is that okay with you?"

"That's fine."

Dan rolled his eyes and turned to leave before Arin grabbed his arm.

"There's another note for you here. Is there something you need to tell me?"

"No. It's just a john who's worried about me," Dan sighed, taking the note and shoving it into his pocket.

"He's paying, so I'm gonna trust you to keep your distance and do your job. You won't let daddy down, will you?"

"No, of course not."

"Then go on. Be back before the lunch rush, alright?"

"Sure thing, daddy."

Dan stepped out into the blinding light of day and walked down the street to a little cafe. He opened the door and inhaled the smell of pastries and cheap coffee. 

"Can I get a grande hot chocolate?"

The lady at the counter took his order and he sat down after paying. He did what he always did when he was bored and scanned the room for anything interesting. His eye caught sight of a man sitting in a corner near the window. The man was reading what looked to be Cosmos by Carl Sagan. Dan felt his body move towards the man and before he knew it, he was sitting across the table from him.

"You should stop giving me money to buy shitty hot chocolate," Dan finally said.

"Hi again. You told me to stop seeing you, but I figured-"

"I need to get out."

"I dunno, this is a nice little shop and-"

"No, I need to get out of...fucking people for money."

Brian put his book down and nodded as if he understood. Dan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"I'll pack my shit up tonight or something..."

"Where will you go?"

"Fuckin'...I don't know. Somewhere far. I just need to get out one of these days."

They sat and talked, feeling safe in a cafe that they didn't know was crawling with pawns of a higher power. Ken sat a table away, listening keenly. 

"Anyway, I need to go...but first, what's your name," Dan asked.

"Hm? My name? It's...wait, no, fuck you. Your name first."

"Are you seriously doing this right now? I'm gonna be late."

"Then you better spit it out," Brian snorted with a defiant shrug. 

"Dan. My name is Dan. Are you happy now?"

"Yes. My name is Brian. See how easy that was? Now, you can go."

Dan groaned and rushed out. He hadn't realized before then how much time had passed while he was sitting there. Brian leaned back in his chair and grinned, inexplicably smitten by Dan. 

Ken rose and left soon afterwards, digging his phone from his pocket and adjusting his sun glasses and bear hat. 

"You were right about the whore and that john," he murmured into the phone. "What's our next move, sir?"

"I am in such a good mood," Mark purred, holding Ross' chin with one hand. "It's so hard to stay bitter when you've spent the morning fucking someone so hard that your grip almost breaks their wrists, you know."

"About the whore, sir-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll talk to Hanson about the situation. For now, make sure the whore's nose doesn't come in contact with any cocaine. Maybe a bit of withdrawal will make him reconsider crossing me."

"Yes, sir."

Ken hung up and Mark groaned, pulling Ross' face close to his own. 

"Come on. Big daddy needs to express some rage."

Ross eagerly followed after Mark on his hands and knees, his wrists tingling with pain as he moved from earlier. His body was hit by waves of satisfying aches that left him dizzy with masochistic pleasure. Mark led him up the stairs to where they'd been that first night and helped him to his feet. 

"Whores are so much work," Mark growled through clenched teeth as he wound back and struck Ross' cheek as hard as he could. 

Ross' broken moan danced along Mark's ears like music. He lifted Ross to his feet again only to shove him into the coffee table hard enough to break its fragile glass structure into pieces. Among the glass shards lay Ross' pale, near naked body. The image was enough to set Mark's mind at ease. He dropped to his knees, lips attracted to the shallow cuts along Ross' neck and chest. 

"Sir, Arin's here to see you," Intern Jack yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "Would you like me to show him in?"

Mark lifted his head and let out a low, almost animalistic growl. He straightened his red tie and rolled up his sleeves. 

"Yes. Thank you, sweetheart," he finally grumbled, his voice deep as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. 

Shortly after that, Arin stepped in, his eyes immediately drawn to Ross, who was still sprawled out among the shattered glass. Mark grinned and pointed proudly.

"That is how you treat a whore."

Arin bit back a response and nodded. He sat down on the white couch and waited patiently for Mark to drop his smile, which he always did when he was not quite angry, but annoyed. 

"Hanson, which one of your ill-mannered sluts makes you the most money," Mark asked, his tone low and distant. 

"Dan," Arin replied almost immediately. 

"And what does the money that Danny brings in get you?"

"A lot of shit...what's this about?"

"Because you have no control over your sluts, I've caught wind of one of your unruly cumbuckets is trying to run. Something about this bullshit Romeo and Juliet star-crossed thing he has going on with some john."

"Oh fuck," Arin grumbled, running his fingers through his silky hair. 

"So, you knew about this and you weren't going to tell me?"

"Not exactly...I had a hunch, but I didn't think anything of it..."

"And now I have a soft-hearted pimp and a whore who still has hopes and dreams. Make my job easy and do your fucking job. I won't ask this nicely again. Do your job or I'll find some lowlife scum who can. You're expendable, understand?"

Arin let out a defeated sigh and nodded. 

"Now, get out of my sight," Mark growled, kneeling down beside Ross, who'd remained perfectly still. "I was in the middle of something."

"Yes, sir." Arin mumbled on his way out. 

Mark smirked, kissing the soft line of Ross' jaw. There was something terrifyingly intimate about his touch despite the violence he had yet to inflict.

Dan dug through the few belongings that he had with him, searching for things to shove into a small enough bag. He couldn't leave that night, but he was leaving soon and fast as he could. 

The door opened and Arin trudged in. He slammed the door behind him and there he stood, right across the bed from Dan.

"You're back late. Pimp orgy go on a little too long-" Dan began.

He nearly blacked out as the sharp pain of Arin's fist striking his nose sent stinging sensations through his entire body. He fell to the floor, clutching his nose.

"Don't you ever fucking lie to me," Arin growled, shaking pain from his hand. "I better not catch you seeing that john again or I'll fucking-"

"What? Kill me? You need me, Arin. I make you money," Dan hissed, not bothering to wipe the blood from his nose. 

Arin fell silent, his rage fading to confused frustration. Dan needed him. He always had. How could it be that he needed a whore more than the whore needed him? The thought made him sick. 

Dan brushed past Arin to get to the small bedside table. He fingered through condoms and toys for a bit before sighing loudly.

"Where's the stash?"

Arin refused to answer and almost took childishly vengeful pleasure in Dan's desperate panic. 

"I'm fucking serious, Arin! Where is it?!"

"Suddenly feeling a little needier, huh?"

"This isn't fucking funny," Dan muttered, his voice trembling. "Please..."

"I need your word that you'll never leave. I need you to give this up for a little while if I'm going to trust you..."

Dan's hands already begun to shake. Cocaine had become a part of him...a part of this toxic person he'd become. Without it, his mind felt warped.

"I promise," he whispered, his head against Arin's chest. "I won't try to leave, just please, Arin..."

He didn't cross his fingers or his toes, but the lie felt vile as it left his lips. He would leave whether it was in a body bag or in Brian's car. He needed to go. If it meant in the end that his withdrawal killed him after he got out of the city limits, that was okay.


	6. Refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan is on the run and Brian finds himself deeper in the complicated web of Dan's life.

Days. Days. Days. Dan's foot tapped on the carpeted hotel room floor as he paced back in forth. Arin would be there in a few moments. True, Dan had invited him, but the stakes felt way too high. He would attempt to seduce cocaine out of him. It'd already been days. His hands trembled as he fidgeted. Everything ached. 

"Hey, babe," Arin murmured as he entered the door. 

"Hi," Dan replied, his breath hollow as he held out a bottle of champagne. "I wanted to apologize...for everything, so...here."

"Aw, little cat, you didn't need to..."

"Don't get too excited. I totally stole this from the kitchen. Still, I wanted to share it with you."

Arin smiled though he was still a little suspicious of Dan's sudden kindness after their biggest fight. Still, his reluctance melted away when he pressed his lips against Dan's. Their kisses were like deep, vulnerable gaps in time that felt unmatched by any other kiss to be shared with anyone else. 

"Will you go get us some cups from the bathroom? I'm gonna slip into something you might like," Dan murmured. 

That was enough to get Arin off his guard. Anything about Dan's body was enough to melt his will to fight, so he eagerly walked to the bathroom in search of cups. 

"You know I hate fighting with you, baby," Arin began, kneeling down near the bathroom counter. 

"I know, daddy," Dan muttered, gripping the neck of the champagne bottle with both of his unsteady hands. "It was my fault anyway," he went on, stepping into the bathroom. 

Breathe, Danny thought. Just breathe. 

"You know I love you, right," Arin mused, still digging around for cups. 

"I love you too," Dan answered, raising the bottle above his head.

Arin just barely had time to turn around before Dan brought the bottle of champagne down on his head, knocking him unconscious. The green glass shattered almost immediately and Arin lay bleeding on the floor. Dan dropped the neck of the bottle that was still clenched tight in his slender fingers. He knelt down and searched for any source of cocaine or any money to buy what he needed. He found a wad of cash and a small baggie which immediately set Dan at ease. With that, he shut the bathroom door and bolted from the hotel room. Clad only in the boxer shorts he'd been wearing and a worn out Ramones t-shirt, he ran down to the lobby, slamming into whoever had just entered.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck, I'm so sorry," Dan nearly shouted as he tried to rise to his feet. 

"Dan, what's wrong," that familiar voice inquired.

"Bri-"

"You're shaking, sweetheart, are you alright?"

Dan's body shook violently as he tried to get up again. He stumbled a few feet only to collapse in Brian's arms. 

"Oh god," Brian murmured, lifting Dan over his shoulder and practically sprinting from the hotel lobby.

He threw open the door of his small car and dumped Dan in the back seat. He tried to catch his breath as he thought of what to do. Almost immediately, he turned the key in the ignition and began speeding towards the closest hospital. At every stop light, Brian peered behind him at the back seat, checking to see if Dan was even still alive. He swerved into the dimly lit hospital's parking lot and jumped out immediately, carrying Dan with him. 

"Excuse me," Brian practically shouted in panic at the receptionist at the front desk. 

"What can I help you with, honey," the receptionist with a strong Southern accent chirped before seeing Dan's limp body. "We'll try and see what we can do."

"Thank you so much. He collapsed maybe ten minutes ago..."

"And you're his...?"

"I'm his boyfriend," Brian spat out without hesitation. 

His face flushed as the lady at the desk smiled and gestured to several doctors. 

"Does your boyfriend have any history of drug or alcohol abuse," the receptionist asked as Dan was carried away.

She noticed Brian's hesitation and reached out to touch his hand reassuringly. 

"The police won't be notified. He can't be arrested here."

"H-he's a cocaine addict, I think," Brian reluctantly answered. 

"We'll take good care of him. Would you like to come visit in the morning?"

"I-I...no, I should stay here...to make sure he's alright."

Across town, Mark sat at his desk, his phone ringing loudly as he attempted to spend quality time with Ross. 

"This better be good, Hanson," Mark growled. 

"He's gone."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Why do you sound so out of breath?"

"Dan! The whore! He's not fucking here."

Mark gritted his teeth and nearly flipped his desk over in anger. He tried to collect himself, but his voice was brought to a low growl.

"How. Do. You. Lose. A. Whore?!" Mark demanded, throwing papers from his desk. 

"He fucking bashed me over the head with a champagne bottle. What the fuck was I supposed to do while I was unconscious?!"

Mark tried to catch his breath as he paced. Arin was rummaging for bandages, waiting for an answer.

"What's the plan, boss," he asked. 

"We're hunting him down. Because I clearly can't trust you to do anything, I have to call in the best of the best."

"I don't unders-"

"I'll deal with your ass later," Mark growled, crushing his phone in his bare hands. "Felix, go get Jack for me."

"Sir, there's two-"

"The Irish one."

"I-"

"The one that doesn't have the green hair. Tell him to call in Cry and Critikal."

Felix nodded and immediately left the room. Mark clenched his fists and took a few more deep breaths. He glanced down at Ross and smiled a bit.

"You make me feel a bit better, darling."

"Thanks, big daddy," Ross purred, kissing Mark's still-healing knuckles. "Everything will be alright."

Dan stirred around a bit before jolting up and groaning in pain. Brian stopped snoring and yawned. The rain had put him to sleep almost immediately. 

"Hey, relax," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"W-where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You passed out on me so-"

"I need to get out of here...he's going to be looking for me," Dan panted, struggling to rise from the hospital bed. "I need to leave...I-I need to get out...he's coming for me..."

"Woah, woah, slow down. Breathe for a minute," Brian soothed, getting up from the uncomfortable armchair he'd been sitting in for at least an hour. "Who's coming for you?"

"Mark's gonna kill me...they're gonna have me killed for leaving...I can't stay here-"

"Mark...is he some kind of-"

"He's my pimp's boss and I know terrible shit about him...he'll have me hanged or something..."

"You'll be fine. I won't let anything happen to-"

Brian's reassurances were cut short by the sound of eerie boots clicking on the tiled floor. His mind blurred as he tried to think of what to do. He shut off the light, grabbed a nearby syringe and listened carefully.

"You check this floor, and I'll check the second," a very particular deep voice muttered. "And Critikal?"

"What?"

"Don't make a mess this time. Either we kill the whore and make it look like an accident or we bring both the john and the whore in for him to deal with. Don't get cocky."

"Whatever you say, man."

Brian caught sight of who he would later find out was Cry. Cryaotic became a crucial asset to Mark for his excellent marksmanship, hidden face, and mysterious vibe. He was known for his absolute ruthlessness when it came to dealing with who he got paid to kill. All he needed was a name, a scent, and a price. 

Critikal, on the other hand, was the chaos that their duo needed. He was slightly younger and far more reckless with kills, often taking care to have fun when it came to their work. Similarly to Cry, Critikal chose not to show his face, though he was far less adamant about keeping it hidden. 

Brian gripped the syringe and let out a labored breath as he waited for Critikal to enter. It was only a matter of time. In that time, Dan had managed to climb under the bed and hang under it. The air was tense like a horror movie as Critikal crept towards the door, knife at the ready. Brian instinctively kicked the door closed and plunged the syringe into Critikal's neck with amazing quickness. 

"Fuck..." Brian muttered as Critikal collapsed almost immediately, clutching the syringe. 

When Brian finally turned around, Dan was tying sheets together and dangling the long, makeshift rope out the window. 

"We're one floor up. It won't hurt to climb down," he mumbled, craning his neck out the window. "You...are coming, aren't you? I kind of need your car..."

Brian nodded slowly. He was involved now. He took a deep breath and rushed over, grabbing hold of the cloth.

"Go. I'll hold the rope."

Dan seemed energized as he slid down the rope with ease. Brian concluded that he either got more cocaine in his system or adrenaline was kicking in before he collapsed. Either way, he held the cloth chain steady until Dan was all the way down. He soon went down after him and embraced the shrubbery that he'd landed in. 

"What's the plan, old man," Dan asked as they darted to Brian's car. 

"We're going somewhere so I can get a good look at you without being hunted down for a little while."

"You don't trust me?"

"I know I'm like, old or whatever, but one thing I remember learning with clarity is not to trust hookers who are being hunted down by assassins..." Brian grumbled, pushing his key into the ignition and starting the car with haste. 

"I don't know why they're after me, I swear-"

Brian pushed his foot down on the break and floored it as fast as his car would allow. Dan shivered as his body tried to adjust to the cold. The rain poured relentlessly down and wearing a hospital gown didn't help. 

"Where are we going," Dan asked after a short while. 

"You'll see."

"Uh...hey, I'm...thanks for...you know."

"Yeah...well-I mean...yeah. Okay."

Thankfully, the awkward air of silence was broken by Brian pulling into a dark garage. He parked the car and sat silently for a moment as if to catch his breath. Once he'd collected himself, he got out of the car and ushered Dan to come with him. They walked to a creaky old elevator that lifted them to the top floor of this small apartment complex. Brian unlocked the dark red door at the end of a seemingly endless hallway and pushed Dan inside.

"Take the gown off," Brian ordered, tossing his jacket onto a leather futon. "I need to check you out."

"I-I..."

"You've been naked in front of me before," Brian went on, rolling up his sleeves and digging around in a drawer in the kitchen. 

Dan sighed and complied, slipping out of his flimsy hospital gown. Brian rinsed off a knife that he got from the drawer. 

"Lie down. I need to check you out."

Dan did as he was told and waited to see what Brian was going to do. Brian knelt down beside the futon and felt around Dan's arm carefully.

"Just as I thought," he murmured. 

"What?"

"There's something in your arm. Probably a tracking device or something..."

"Huh? How do you know?"

"I've seen it before...uh, I dated a veterinarian who told me all about chips and shit like that."

"So, what; you gonna cut my arm off?"

"Fuck...ah, I need to cut the chip out of you..."

Dan gritted his teeth and sighed loudly. Blood was already uncomfortable for him and he'd already seen enough of his own for one day. His bandages from all the broken glass cuts were getting pretty gross. Even still, he inhaled slowly and braced himself.

"Keep your eyes on me," Brian instructed. "Tell me about your music."

As Dan began to speak, Brian gently began cutting into his forearm with the utmost amount of care. Dan writhed and cried out.

"F-fuck! Oh god...ow..."

"Look at me, Danny."

Despite the pain, Dan opened his eyes and kept them on Brian as he worked. 

"I-I had a band called Northern Hues...it was-FUCK! OWOWOW!! I-it was an indie band that I sang for...and then, u-uh...Skyhill is the band I-I joined later...ow..."

"Do you have any videos?"

"Wh-what?"

"I want to listen. Is that alright with you?"

Dan nodded and winced as Brian managed to pluck the small chip from his forearm. He pressed several bandages on the wound before pulling out a small sewing needle. He clearly saw the terror on Dan's face so he smiled and held his face with his bloodied hands.

"Sing one of your songs. Pick your favorite."

Dan whined as Brian began sewing up the cut, but even still, he sang what he could remember of "Hands on The Water". Even being as stoic as Brian tried to be, he couldn't help but feel less tense just by listening to Dan sing. Sure, his voice was weak and shaky, but even so, he sounded beautiful. 

"There. All better?"

Dan nodded weakly. 

"Alright. Now, get some sleep. You've definitely earned it. We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

Dan yawned and stretched a bit. His eyes fluttered closed almost immediately, the pain feeling almost secondary to his exhaustion. He only opened his eyes again as Brian swept him up into his arms and carried him into what he assumed to be a bedroom. 

For the first time in months, Dan felt...safe.


	7. Planning for Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as Brian has officially involved himself in the dangerous web of Dan's life, they plan to take action against the terrifying force that is Mark.

Dan didn't sleep that night. He felt a mixture of shock and relief that Brian was able to at all. If anyone was in danger, it was Brian. Sure, Dan would probably be tortured at the hands of Mark, but he mad him money. He wouldn't dare hurt him enough to make him incapable of making money. Brian, on the other hand, was fair game. He ran the risk of being killed in the process of protecting Dan or being tortured. Even with that in mind, he slept like the dead. He only woke up when his alarm went off at 7:30 AM. 

"So, what's the plan," he grunted, his voice gruff and tired. 

"The...plan?" Dan asked, sitting up and hugging his knees. 

"I hear Canada is relatively easy to get into these days as long as you have a passport. If you don't have one, you could always make it to New Mexico easily enough."

Dan nodded, his mind mulling over his options with careful consideration. Part of him, the more logical portion of his brain, wanted to run like Brian suggested. Still, the rest of him, the uncharacteristically angry part of his brain, wanted revenge or blood. He chewed on his bottom lip as he fell deeper into his thoughts. 

"Do you know anyone who's good with guns?"

"I...might? Why?"

"Promise me you'll be with me on this," Dan went on, holding Brian's shoulders. "I'm gonna do some crazy shit, okay?"

"...How crazy?"

"Like 'James Bond just ate three weed brownies and downed ten shots of tequila' crazy."

Brian rubbed his eyes as if to prepare himself for whatever craziness the day would hold. Dan grabbed his hands and pulled him towards the kitchen.

"Okay, I need you to cut my hair."

"Are you...sure that's a good idea?"

"My hair is a dead giveaway. Cut it."

Brian reluctantly searched different drawers in the kitchen until he found a large pair of scissors. He took a deep breath because, fuck, it was super hard to cut off one of his favorite things about this hooker who was seeking refuge in his apartment. With every snip, he and Dan both flinched. It felt like the end of something. The hair barely reached his ears. 

"Okay, what now," Brian asked, setting the scissors aside. 

"I need to kill some people...and I need you to be here with me when I do...I-I can't do it alone..."

"Running would be much safer and easier," Brian protested.

"I...he has one of my friends and I'm worried about him...Mark took him and he hasn't gone back to the hotel. I...Mark's a really scary guy who can hurt a lot of people."

"And a skinny Jewish kid from New Jersey with a cocaine addiction is going to bring down an empire created by a sociopathic crime lord. Okay."

"Brian, please," Dan pleaded, taking Brian's hands in his own. "I must sound so fucked-"

"We can agree on that."

"But, those guys were sent to kill me last night. You saw those weapons and you saw how that could've ended. I won't do this without you. I can't do this without you."

Brian felt defenseless as he stared into Dan's pathetic gaze. He was so desperate to fill some angry void within himself and oddly enough, Brian could relate. He finally caved. It was then that he realized he was deeply in love with someone he'd never seen at their best. It was enough to make him puke.

"I can try calling the people I know, okay? I can't promise anything."

"Oh god, thank you so fucking much," Dan cheered, yanking Brian into a tight hug. 

"Just...don't get reckless."

He picked up his phone and tapped a few times before holding it to his ear.

"Yeah, Haywood, it's Brian," he murmured. "You're a psychopath, aren't you?"

"What kind of question is that, Wecht," the deep voice on the other end demanded. 

"Just confirming. I got a little mission for you if you're up for it."

"You know I'm up for it. Just make sure I have time to pick up my kids from karate, alright?"

"How're the little shits doing, anyway?"

"Growing way too fast and making me feel old. How's your little girl?"

"Light of my life. Anyway, we need a fuckton of weapons for...a thing. Do your worst. We'll see you in an hour or so. Think you can do that for me?"

"Course I can! They don't call me Mad King Ryan for nothin'."

"You're the best."

He set the phone down and scratched at his stomach lazily. Dan held the tracker that was cut out of his arm and stared at it with such a confused look in his eye.

"I didn't wanna be stuck with this life...I just wanted to make enough money to stop living out of my fucking car..." he sighed, hand trembling as his eyes welled up with tears. "I just wanted to buy my bass back and make music..." He went on, crushing the chip in his palm. 

Brian stood up to look for more bandages, having no idea what to say. Here he was, falling for a hooker who cared about nothing more than getting his revenge and living comfortably. 

"We should replace your bandages before we go."

"You have a daughter?"

"Yep," Brian replied as he rummaged around for gauze. "She's with her mother for a bit."

"So, you're...divorced?"

"Nope, they're just visiting family for a few weeks since my wife's not teaching during the summer."

There was a long silence as Brian unraveled the bloodied bandages around Dan's forearm. 

"Does she know you're fucking whores while she's on vacation with your kid," Dan asked suddenly, his voice in the strange limbo between condescension and frustration. 

"Are you seriously going be all 'holier-than-thou' about my marriage," Brian began, his grip on Dan's arm tighter as he worked. "It's actually possible to have a healthy relationship with someone without jealousy factoring into it."

"Wow...I was just asking..."

"Well, stop asking," Brian muttered. "I'll make it plain and simple: she knows what I do and I know what she does. Not every relationship is an angsty mess, alright?"

"How come I can't ask you anything about your life and you can ask me whatever you want?"

"Because this is my house and you got me tangled up in your mess?" 

"I didn't ask you to get involved, dickcheese! That was all you!"

"What happened to you 'needing' me, hm?"

"No, fuck you! I said I needed your car, not you! Literally stop being a dick for five seconds, please?"

"It's how I show that I care," Brian retorted with mock concern, batting his eyelashes. "Now, eat something. It's gonna be a long day."

Across town, Ross lay in bed, arm seemingly spreading across the warm space where Mark had been lying earlier. They'd only fallen asleep an hour or so before one of Mark's many phones began to ring. 

"What do you mean he disappeared," Mark demanded through clenched teeth, eyes hardly even open yet due to how early it was. "Whores don't just disappear, so find him or it's your ass! Bring me both him and this meddling john. I'll kill them both myself."

With that, he threw the phone at the wall and let out a frustrated growl. Ross reluctantly opened his eyes and smiled slightly.

"Hey, big daddy, what's wrong?" he whispered. "Come back to bed?"

"It's this whore...Danny," Mark admitted, running his fingers through his fiery red hair. "His stupid pimp couldn't keep him under control and now my two best fucking assassins can't even find him."

"Is...is it really so important that you find him? He's just one hooker," Ross asked, finally sitting up. 

"He makes me the most money and after all the coke he's gotten from me, he should be my slave for life," Mark growled. "His body belongs to me. I've given him so much. Believe me, it goes even deeper than coke."

"Yeah? Tell me?"

"That slut has one of my kidneys."

Ross just barely stopped himself from laughing. It sounded absolutely insane. Still, he beckoned Mark to bed and let him speak.

"He made me so much money that I gave him one of my kidneys when his failed," Mark went on. "And if he's gonna run, I'm tearing it right out of him with my own bare hands," he added, his voice gravelly and honestly terrifying. 

"But, daddy-"

"I know he's your friend, but please try to understand what I'm doing."

The word 'please' felt almost foreign to Ross' ears. Mark was still intimidating as all hell and even when his voice was softened, it was still deep and full of authority. 

"I'm not judging you," Ross finally said between kisses along Mark's broad shoulders. "For now, let Cry and Critikal handle the situation. Let's just go back to sleep, okay?"

"I'm not sure I could sleep with this on my mind. You go back to bed."

"You could tie me up again and drip hot wax all over my cock if that'll make you feel better."

Mark thought for a moment. The offer was tempting and he let his frustration give way to the familiar feeling of lustful domspace. 

"You always know how to make me feel better, baby girl. Let's go express some rage."


	8. Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's choice to go after Mark ends up changing everything for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support for this series has been huge and it actually made me cry to end it. Thank you guys so much for all the love you've given this AU! It means a lot to me <3

"Ross, come here, please," Mark ordered, his voice low but surprisingly lacking in intimidation.

"Is...something wrong?" Ross asked.

"If something should happen to me-"

"Like what?"

"Just listen. If something should happen to me, I need to know that you'll take care of everything in my place. I want you to do my job if I am no longer around to do it. Can you promise me that you'll do that?"

"I-I...yeah. I promise, big daddy. What is this about?"

"Don't worry," Mark scoffed. "It's just a precaution. After I kill this whore, we'll put this all behind us. We'll go see Paris. You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Ross nearly yelled, throwing his arms around Mark's neck. "Don't be an asshole."

In an equally broken-down, seedy warehouse on the opposite end of town, Brian pounded his fist on the dented garage door. The door opened with an awful screeching sound and Dan was almost disappointed by who greeted them. A man with bright blue eyes and an almost cat-like grin lifted the scratched welding helmet from his face.

"That's Haywood," Dan whispered to Brian.

"What'd you expect," Brian snorted.

"A wild-eyed psychopath? He's just very pretty, that's all...he looks like a dad."

"Have you remembered to stay hydrated," Haywood asked, his smile pleasant and warm as he wiped blood from his hands. "You know you get dehydrated easily, Brian."

"I came here for weapons, not daddy lessons," Brian grumbled.

"You know I have to ask. I care about you," Haywood replied with a grin. "Now, follow me."

They stepped past several tables covered in paint and what could've been bloodied weapons. Dan stayed close to Brian, holding onto the back of his green plaid shirt. Ryan, as his phone called him, led them to a small corner near the back.

"Guns for the hooker, blades for the ninj-"

"I'm not going in costume, you asshole. I haven't worn that in years, anyway."

"Costume," Dan piped up curiously.

"Your boyfriend-" Ryan began, all too eager to explain.

"We're not dating," Brian correctly quietly. "But go on."

"Your john and I were roommates in college and started a band where I dressed up in a kilt and a crown and he dressed up as this ninja with these gold designs on his chest. We made music sometimes, but what we really ended being incredibly popular because of these personas we made up."

"Oh, that's it," Dan sighed with disappointment.

"Yes, that's it-" Brian tried to say.

"I won't go into detail. All I'm gonna say is he was dedicated to his mask and even went through martial arts training." Ryan muttered.

"Wear the thing again! It'll help you get into character and you'll be a badass again!" Dan interjected, grabbing Brian's shoulders.

"That was decades ago. I don't even think I could fit into-"

"I need a stealthy ninja if I'm going to kill this guy, alright? Please?"

Brian rolled his eyes and snatched the black ski-mask from the table with a defeated sigh. It was like reuniting with an old friend.

"You know how to use one of those, don't you," Ryan asked, watching Dan run his fingers along the barrel of one of the pistols on the table.

"I've seen Breaking Bad. Of course I know how to use it." Dan scoffed.

"Just try not to get yourself killed. It's not good for business."

Dan nodded as if he understood, and to a certain extent, he totally did. He was someone in a sketchy business. Being murdered looks bad.

"Arin taught me how to shoot...he told me what to do if people didn't pay me what I was owed," he confessed, secretly hating how comfortable the gun felt in his hand.

"Remind me why you're helping this hooker again," Ryan inquired. " I thought you didn't do these sort of charity projects anymore."

"I don't," Brian replied.

"Is this a Pretty Woman thing? I bet it is. That movie's pretty good-"

"He wanted money and I gave it to him."

"You're dick-whipped."

"That's not a thing."

"It is when you're hopelessly head over gay heels for a hooker."

"You're insufferable."

"I'm right."

Brian sighed and ran his fingers through his graying hair. He tried to figure out why he let Dan drag him into all this. Then his eyes trailed up to the tired, hopeful brown eyes. Maybe he was in love. Maybe. That was the first time he looked at Dan full on. He was gorgeous even being as broken as he was. It was hard not to want to fall for him.

"We should go," Dan finally said. "Thank you, Ryan...I'll try not to die."

"If you do, don't get any blood on the merch."

"Right."

Dan took what he needed and watched Brian pick up his own blades. They looked like they belonged to him in another life.

"Don't forget to call," Haywood chuckled. "I worry about you."

"Of course," Brian replied, turning to leave. "Tell the kids I said hi."

The warehouse across town was eerily quiet. Mark sent Ross out to shop for new clothes. Maybe he did it because he loved him. Even villains can love. With him gone, he prepared for the fight he knew Dan would give him.

"Send Hanson in here," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," Intern Jack answered obediently.

Arin stood in the doorway and suppressed the anxious knot in his gut as Mark beckoned to him.

"You're no longer of any use to me, Hanson," Mark said simply, pointing a gun towards him.

It was easy to shoot him down. Arin collapsed, his blood pooling around him as he tried to catch his own elusive breaths.

Brian parked the car several blocks away from the warehouse. His eyes seemed to do so much talking now that his mouth was covered by the black mask he wore.

"Trust me," his eyes seemed to say as Dan struggled to collect his nerves. "I'll protect you until I can't anymore."

Dan got out of the car and let out an anxious sigh.

"Can you take care of the first floor for me," he asked.

Brian nodded.

"Just worry about Mark," he seemed to say despite the silence.

It was hard not to watch Brian work. It was a spectacle to be sure. In the dim light of the warehouse, he worked with pure precision and agility. He threw down smoke bombs and disappeared without so much as a blink. He leapt from smokey shadow to smokey shadow, his eyes ablaze. Soon enough, he'd slit Ken's throat and knocked Felix out cold.

Dan climbed the staircase, his feet hardly touching the steps as he tried to keep quiet.

"Oh god," he gasped, his eyes immediately drawn to Arin's bloodied body.

"He was so useless," Mark murmured. "He was soft on you, you know."

"He punched me square in the face. Fuck you and fuck him too," Dan hissed. "Anyway, where's Ross?"

"Not here."

"Obviously."

"He's out. He doesn't need to see what I'm about to do."

"Touching."

Mark rolled up the sleeves of his white buttoned shirt and grinned. Something entertained him about this situation and he couldn't tell why.

"I take it you didn't come to give me that kidney you owe me," he mused, pulling a blade from his pocket. "Which is fine. I'd much rather take it by force."

"I thought it was a gift," Dan said, trying to laugh off his nerves as he raised the pistol he'd been gripping.

"It was until you tried to run with it."

Mark lunged forward, knocking Dan onto his back with terrifying ease. He gritted his teeth and let out a low, deep laugh as he kicked the gun from Dan's hand.

"I wanted to keep you. You made me so much money and people loved you," he admitted with a forlorn sigh before smiling again. "But, business is never easy, is it?"

Dan hated how scared he must have looked. His throat felt like it was closing up and breathing was excruciating. It was all going to be over just like that. He never even stood a chance. He struggled but it did no good. Mark was freakishly strong.

"Don't squirm or I might miss," Mark laughed, pulling a rusty switchblade from his back pocket. "We wouldn't want to cut into anything vital, would we?"

Dan winced as Mark pressed the blade against his stomach. There was just enough pressure to make him feel uncomfortable. Mark's toying with him was insufferable. Still, Dan couldn't fight. He felt his body seize up. All he could do was shut his eyes tight and try to writhe away from the knife. Mark's glee could hardly be contained as he traced along Dan's skin with alarming care.

Then there was a gunshot. Just one. All the moving ceased and Mark slumped forward, his lifeless body collapsing onto Dan. He could barely lift the body enough to get out from under it. His hands shook as he tried to wipe the spattered blood from his face. He shut his eyes to compose himself before he caught sight of Arin. He had propped himself up on one elbow and held his pistol with his free hand. His breathing was shallow as he dropped the gun.

"Why does it seem like I'm the one constantly saving your ass," he chuckled weakly. 

Dan finally pulled himself onto his feet and trudged to where he lay. He kicked the gun from Arin's hand and spat blood at him.

"You're the reason I was in danger in the first place, you asshole," he grumbled. 

"No one asked you to come back, you fucking clod," Arin hissed defensively. "If you'd have stayed gone-"

"We both know too damn well that he would've chased me until he either dragged me back or killed me."

Arin let out a weak sigh and nodded to signify a defeat. Dan knelt down and reached out, though he wasn't sure what he could do about a gunshot wound. Arin smirked and reached up to touch Dan's hair.

"You cut it off, huh? You really thought that would help?"

"It was just a precaution. I just needed to make it here without being shot at by some of his idiots."

"It's kind of cute-"

"Don't talk. My...a friend will be up here in a little bit and I'm sure he can fix you up somehow."

Sure enough, Brian finally came up the staircase, followed by Ross. They both stood in the doorway, Brian covered in blood and Ross' body trembling as he caught sight of Mark. He ran to the body, dropping to his knees and wiped away actual tears. In all the months he'd been doing this job, this was the first time he'd cried. 

"Who did this," he demanded. 

Dan wanted to point to Arin, but he just sat there. Something in him wouldn't allow him to stoop to Arin's level.

"I'm sorry for your-" he began.

"Well. I guess he had it coming," Ross cut in, tugging a silver ring from Mark's finger and putting it around his own. "I can't blame anyone, really. Anyway, you should go, Danny."

Dan stood up slowly and smiled weakly. This was a lot less badass than he wanted it to be, but he was alive so he couldn't complain. He limped to Brian, feeling like his legs like give out at any moment. He was shaking.

"What're you gonna do now," he asked as Ross sat down behind Mark's desk.

"I have a business to run."

There was a lack of any type of emotion in the way he spoke and it scared Dan. Still, the selfish part of him knew that him being alive was a victory in itself. He didn't want to push his luck. 

"Um...hey, Danny? I know you probably won't be going back to the hotel, but...if you see Barry, would you tell him where I am," Ross asked, his voice a lot softer now. 

Dan nodded and tried to smile again before Brian helped him get down the stairs. They walked through the bloody aftermath of Brian's work. Dan could hardly believe one person could do so much damage. They said nothing until the got back to Brian's car.

"Do you trust that guy?" Brian asked as he checked Dan for injuries. 

"Not really, but he won't do anything to hurt me. He has no reason to. He's a good guy...he's just...destructive."

There was another silence. Brian was covered in blood and Dan couldn't figure out if any of it was his own. He fidgeted with the oversized t-shirt Brian let him borrow and finally thought of what to say.

"Hey, thank you for...everything, Brian," he began quietly as they drove. 

Brian simply nodded. He wanted to say "I'd do anything for you" or "there's nothing you could ask me that I'd refuse", but the words wouldn't leave his throat. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. So, he just drove. He continued to drive for what felt like hours. Dan finally took a deep breath.

"I used to think johns were these...rich, old white guys who hated their marriages and just wanted someone to look down on," he began. "I hated a lot of the guys who came and went and dreaded them when they acted like this was about more than fucking someone and throwing money at them. Arin always used to say 'they don't give a fuck about you but you owe them a good time because they pay for your coke and your bed and your whatever'...but every time you came in...you asked me how I was doing and if I was drinking enough water. And I hated you too. It wasn't because you were doing me wrong but it was because you weren't supposed to care about me. No one is..."

"Dan-"

"And it's like...I know you're this badass guy, but you could've died today. You have a fucking kid and a wife and you willingly brought knives to a gun fight for a hooker with a vendetta...what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Brian furrowed his eyebrows confusedly. 

"Are you...mad at me?"

"I'm just confused! What the fuck makes me so special? I'm a coke addict that had sex for money just to be a famous musician!"

"Maybe I just see more than you do."

Dan stopped cold and looked over at him. What could he possibly see in someone like him? Before he could even say anything else, Brian parked the car and sighed.

"You should be able to catch a Greyhound or something to somewhere a little less toxic," he said, his voice surprisingly low and maybe even melancholy. 

"Brian-"

Dan kissed Brian's cheek and hugged him close. God, he never thought he'd miss someone so much before then. He'd been living on his own and relying on his own bullshit instincts until he met Brian. 

"This should be enough to cover a ticket," Brian murmured, holding out a bit of money. 

"Will I ever see you?"

"With any luck, you'll never see me again."

With that, Dan got out of the car and waved. He had enough money to start over now, and he knew Brian was wrong. If it all worked out, Dan would do anything in his power to make sure he and Brian saw each other again. 

**************************************

And they didn't see each other for two years. Brian's mind wandered to Dan every so often. He certainly hadn't forgotten about him. He only hoped that Dan was doing fine. 

It was March 14th. A rainy, all-around gross kind of day that Brian was glad to spend indoors with his family. His wife was writing something...maybe a poem, maybe a script. Brian was in the kitchen, butchering a batch of chocolate chip cookies with his now 4 year old daughter. It was blissful to say the least. 

Then, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Brian volunteered, trying desperately to pull off the 'Votes for Women' apron that was covered in flour. 

Still, he opened the door.

"Hey...Um, I know it's super late at night, but it's my birthday and...I really wanted to see you."

Brian could hardly believe it. He hugged Dan as tight as he could and nearly beamed at him.

"God, you look different...you grew your hair back out!"

"Yeah...apparently people like it that way," Dan chuckled, almost a bit embarrassed. 

"It looks nice. I like it."

"Thanks, man...look, I know you're probably busy, but-"

"None of that. It's good to see you."

"I, uh...I'm in a band now," Dan continued, feeling proud of himself as he talked. "I actually came to drop this off for you."

He held out a CD. Written in surprisingly neat cursive in blue Sharpie was "Fireflies". 

"Your first new album, huh," Brian sighed with contented disbelief. "Thank you. I'm glad you've been doing so well."

"I just wanted swing by because I kinda missed you, but...I should probably get going..."

"No, no, come in. We're making cookies."

"A-are you sure they won't mind?"

"I talk about you a lot. My wife actually thought you'd be a good babysitter from what she's heard. Believe me; you're practically family."

Dan smiled as Brian stepped out of the doorway, allowing him to come in. Once again, he should've felt so foreign, but he felt at home. And it was all because of a stubborn john who refused to give up on him.


End file.
